


After the Boss Battle

by DrSteggy



Series: Uneasy Lies the Chosen of Farore side fics [6]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Extended Scene, F/M, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSteggy/pseuds/DrSteggy
Summary: Extended scene from chapter 36 of Uneasy Lies the Chosen of Farore. Post boss battle coital bliss? Maybe?Link and Zelda are early 40s in this story. They have had a rough few days. They are tired. They are also kinda hot for each other, though Link is currently unsure if he is sleeping with Zelda or Hylia or what his feelings are on the latter. Anyway. Enjoy your smut, people of AO3 and please let me know if you liked it.
Relationships: Link/Zelda
Series: Uneasy Lies the Chosen of Farore side fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689868
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	After the Boss Battle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Uneasy Lies the Chosen of Farore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857055) by [DrSteggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSteggy/pseuds/DrSteggy). 



Later, it’s dark and quiet, and he is maybe half awake when he feels a hand skate from the hollow of his throat, over his collarbone to his shoulder. He startles awake with a gasp, glass breaking in his head. When was the last time he heard that? He sits up, grabbing the hand and pulls.

“Zelda?”

It’s her hand and he has pulled her on top of him. He drops her wrist and slides his hand on her cheek, running his thumb on her lower lip. She looks surprised. ”This wasn’t how I meant to wake you, sleepyhead.”

“...how did you mean to wake me?”

She looks into his eyes. He can feel the thump of her heart against his chest. She leans into him and her mouth is over his. They kiss, slow and deep. She slides her tongue into his mouth, a little aggressive, pushing him back. He huffs a contented sigh, slipping his hand into her hair drawing her closer and angling his head to meet her better. She tugs on the hem of his undershirt, and her hand is on his abdomen. He feels as though butterflies, or maybe fairies, flitter under her touch. _Small pleasures_. She slowly runs a finger along the scar he got in the desert before sliding her hand up to rest lightly over his hip. She grabs his hip, pulling him closer and he rolls her to her side.

She meets his eyes. She is different, somehow, her irises dark and hungry. Who is he with right now, he wonders and what does she want from him?

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Just make me feel. I want to be alive.” It is a command, her voice is fierce.

He is not sure why he hesitates. He has certainly plunged forward before, for worse reasons, though maybe his heart wasn’t the one getting bruised by it. The stakes seem higher, somehow, and he isn’t sure where he stands anymore. He is afraid to tell her no, but lying with her tonight seems fraught as well.

Her fingers curl against the flesh of his hip and she pulls him into her until they touch, and then she pulls him in a little more, grinding against him. She has not broken eye contact as she does this. Despite his thoughts, his cock hardens, and offers the idea that an orgasm would not be the worst, tonight.

Maybe not.

He looks into her eyes, a hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek and then she has pulled him into her again. He rolls her onto her back, pinning her with his hips, one hand taking a fistful of hair at the back of her neck, so he can run his tongue and teeth down the length of her throat, cupping her right breast in his left hand. If she wants to feel, he can do that. She makes a small sound of pleasure and arches under him, meeting his groin with hers. 

He stops, pushing himself up on his free hand, leaning over her on his hands and knees. He straddles her hips and he looks down at her. Her hair spills out over the pillow and there’s still something _hungry_ in her gaze. She rolls her hips under him, not breaking eye contact, and slowly licking her lips. He follows the point of her tongue and something in the back of his mind wonders where else she might like to put that.

“Okay,” his voice is a husky whisper and he tugs on the edge of the ruined, borrowed tunic she still wears. “This comes off now.”

“Take it,” she whispers back.

He roughly pulls the hem up, over her hips, baring her belly with that new, wide scar across it. She doesn’t shy away when he runs his fingers over it this time. He wants to run his teeth over it but decides to work his way back down. He spreads a hand over her, noting her stretch marks, how the soft tissue ripples under him. He is starving and this is a meal laid out for him.

He leans forward and slides both hands up along her sides, pulling the tunic up over her head, leaving her in her small clothes. Though he has seen her naked, there is something about seeing her in underthings that is intoxicating. He runs a finger under the swell of her breast and flicks his eyes to her as he feels her fingers on the waistband of his trousers at his hips.

There’s embroidery on her bra, and a metal clasp between her breasts. It seems so extravagant for something no one sees. He leans down over her, bringing his face to hers. “Why,” he whispers, cupping her left breast in his hand. “Why is there such fancy stitch work on this?”

“I know it’s there,” she whispers back. “And now you do, too.”

He falls on her, covering her mouth with his, probing her with his tongue, urgent and a little clumsy, one hand still at her breast, the other cupping the back of her head. He is acutely aware of her hands at the waist band of his trousers, as she slowly moves from his hips to the front. She gives him a rub with the heel of her palm, enough to make him pause and sigh before he continues to kiss and tongue his way along her jawline, to her ear, and along the length of her neck.

He tries the clasp between her breasts with his teeth once before switching to fingers. She sets to work unbuttoning his pants at the same time and he finds himself distracted in the most maddening way. He ends up flipping the embroidered fabric of her bra aside and takes her areola in his mouth, flicking his tongue over her nipple, feeling it harden, just as she slips her fingers inside his pants and caresses his length. He bites her as she does it. Not hard, but enough. She shifts beneath him, pushing her breast further into his face, and finds his balls. She gently pulls him forward, freeing him of his clothing and sets to exploring him.

He feels like he maybe has not been so hard since his twenties when everything was a new sensation and he wasn’t exactly sure what would happen next. He is quick, and a little frantic, moving from one breast to the other, to her collar bone and the hollow of her throat, while trying to slip a hand between her legs It’s tight work since she has gotten her hand on his cock, and her hips are between his knees and _oh_ her small clothes are damp already.

She has gotten him out of his pants enough that she can roll his balls in her hands. She’s gentle, and she handles him with confidence, giving him a squeeze before slipping behind to find where the root of his cock is and start stroking him there. He stifles a gasp as she does and slows himself, suddenly focused on her hands. She works her way back up his length, tracing soft circles on the tip of his cock. He pushes himself up, resting his hands on her hips, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as she wraps her hand around him and starts to stroke, tightening her grip slightly as she reaches his head. His hips jerk as she does so, before she slides back down, each stroke a little quicker than the last. He is lost in the gentle pressure and how she runs her thumb over him at the top of each stroke. There’s low heat in his abdomen as she speeds up. He lets out a groan and catches her wrist.

“This is going to be over very shortly,” he warns huskily, eyes still closed

“We have all night,” she offers.

He drops his chin to meet her eyes. 

“Come, if you’re going to come,” she whispers. “There’s nothing but time anymore.”

He lets go of her wrist and resumes her pace. He digs his fingers into her hips with each stroke. When tension builds in him again, he leans into it, letting it climb until he bucks into her hand with a cry, releasing himself onto her belly and chest. She strokes him through his orgasm, coming to a stop only when he lets himself fall forward, hands planted on either side of her head. 

“Sorry,” he says after a moment. “Mess.” He reaches for her ruined tunic, dipping it in a basin at the bed table, and uses it to clean up as best he can. “That’s not where I was planning to um go.” He rolls off her to lay by her side.

She props herself up on her elbows and shakes her hair out. 

“I mean, I’m not done yet. Well, that might be it tonight, for _me_ , but I’m not done with _you._ ”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she says. 

“I won’t.” He leans in and aggressively kisses her, pushing his tongue in to taste her. She lets him push her back down before tangling her fingers in his hair. He pauses only to strip of his shirt and kick off his pants before diving back onto her, trailing tongue and teeth down the length of her neck, to her collarbone, letting his fingers glide over her breasts and slip across her abdomen. She arches her back when he drags his tongue over an areola, pausing only to suck on her a moment. She pulls on the hair at the base of his head as he does and he hears her gasp. He moves down her body, kissing and nipping at her new scar. He finds he likes the imperfection on her, the scar and old stretch marks telling a story upon her. When he reaches her hip bone, he pauses, breathing her in for a moment, and placing a palm over her pubis, feeling her heat through her small clothes. They are embroidered too, he notes, to match the bra. They are also damp. He moves himself back and finds the inside of her thigh, placing a light, feathery line of kisses up, up, up, back to her abdomen. He stops and looks back up at her. She is propped on her elbows, watching him, chest heaving. Without breaking eye contact he reaches for the waist of her underwear, slowly pulling it down as he runs his tongue across the fabric. He only drops his eyes once he catches her scent. He slips lips and tongue into her folds, finding her swollen bud and giving it a slow, deep kiss, swirling his tongue over her and sucking. She groans and rocks her hips up to him. 

He pulls her last bit of clothing down more, exploring her slowly, enjoying the way she tastes, taking note of where she trembles, teasing her entrance with his tongue. He can feel himself start to harden again, and he gives himself a few strokes to hasten things. He finds her bud again and plays with it with his tongue while sliding his thumb over the head of his cock, imaging it in her mouth. The image bumps his arousal. He will have to ask next time. When he sucks on her again, he slides two fingers into her, curling them as she rocks her hips up again.

He continues to tease and stroke her, listening to her breathing quicken, feeling her tension rise. He slips a third finger into her and she shudders, her hands back on his head, grabbing at his hair. He runs his tongue back down to where his fingers are, deep inside her before giving her one final roll of his tongue over her bud. When she bucks up this time, he feels her orgasm, and she calls out his name. He rides her out his his head on her belly, three fingers still stroking her, stretching her climax out. His cock bumps up against his own abdomen, eager.

As she falls back, panting and quivering, he hooks his fingers into the waist of her small clothes and pulls them down, slipping them off her. He is then back between her legs, kneeling before her and plunging forward into her, driving home in one delightful, slippery thrust. She hoists her thighs over his hips, pressing her heels into the small of his back and he scoops her up, one arm under her back holding her up as he thrusts forward, slowly at first, reveling in just how well he fits her, and she whispers to him. He drivers harder, deeper with her encouragement, losing himself in her heat, savoring how completely she surrounds him. She bites him where his shoulder and neck meet when he comes the second time, hips stuttering, calling her name. He collapses on her and she wraps him up in arms and legs, hands in his hair and on his ears and she whispers his name like a prayer. 

_Make me feel_ , she had asked. Though it’s only later when he wonders exactly what she meant.


End file.
